


FleetMeet.com

by Exxact



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (Comics), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Parallel Lives
Genre: 12 Days of Spones, Academy Era, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bones Isn't A Cadet, Canon Genderbending, F/F, Femslash, In-Universe Online Dating, Multi, Online Dating, Parallel Lives-verse, Rated T for language and suggestiveness, Star Trek Femslash, spones - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28354605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exxact/pseuds/Exxact
Summary: “—and she’s tagged as ‘looking for bonding/marriage’,” Jamie chatters on, scrolling through a multi-paragraph Preferences section that reads like a technical paper.  “Doesn’t that just get your ole debutante heart a-swoonin’?”Lea takes a long drink of whiskey but doesn’t deny it.  “‘Spock’, huh?”“Yeah!  Grab your PADD and I’ll write a profile for you!”“Absolutely not.  Didn’t you get the memo that I suck at being married?”“Bones!”Written for 12 Days of Spones Day 12: Author’s Choice.  Lea McCoy and Instructor Spock are brought together by Jamie Kirk’s roundabout matchmaking.
Relationships: Fem!Leonard "Bones" McCoy/fem!Spock, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, fem!James T. Kirk/Gaila Vro
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	FleetMeet.com

Sometimes, you don’t miss what you’ve left behind until it’s staring you right in the face with big wet eyes and a manic grin.

Whether that was an ex-partner, your childhood dog, or your roommate carrying two pizzas, a backpack full of chips, and a case of beer through the door after a double clinic shift depended on who you were. If you happened to be Leonora McCoy, better lately known as “Bones” by aforementioned roommate, it was a godsend.

“You know,” Lea says through a mouthful of pizza, gesturing at the veritable feast of booze and junk food Jamie’s laid out for them, “for all the shit I give you, today you just might be my guardian angel for pulling this off.”

“Aww, Bones!” Jamie squeals, bouncing into Lea’s lap and chugging her beer before it can slosh over the top of the can, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lea grunts back, elbowing Jamie back onto the other couch cushion. “So, any plans tonight? I’m only asking so I can warn you in advance that whoever you bring home is getting his/her/their sorry ass—or asses, plural—tossed right back out. I’m too goddamn tired to even think about waking up to that Vro girl stealing my hot water again, especially if that rain keeps up into tomorrow.”

“Nope!” Jamie replies, popping the ‘p’ between her lips. “It’s just you, me, and the stupidly fancy weed said ‘Vro girl’ was nice enough to share with us.”

  
Lea grimaces, unwilling to go that far in repeating her Ole Miss days. Passing out with the fridge door open while marveling at the breeze would kill this month’s budget. “Eh, I’ll stick with the beer. Actually, is there any of that whiskey left over from last Saturday?”

“You’d know before I would!”

Lea nudges Jamie’s thigh with her boot, kicking them off before retrieving said whiskey and a clean glass. She _was_ a lady, after all.

“'Jack Daniels and my daddy—only two men I’ve ever loved',” Jamie recites with Lea before dodging a pillow to her head. Lea tucks her legs beneath herself, getting exactly 27 seconds of quiet with her drink before Jamie is shoving her PADD in front of her face.

“Look, GoodGirlSisi is my date tomorrow night. Thank you, FleetMeet!”

Lea quirks a brow, snorting. “FleetMeet? Did you come up with that on your own? Because if you’re name-dropping dating apps you didn’t program to me, I’m taking my name off the lease.”

“I didn’t make the app! I’m too busy using it!”

“Horseshit,” Lea grins, delighting in Jamie’s pout. “Let me guess—you programmed it last weekend when I didn’t see you move from the couch for 36 hours straight?”

“Okay, fine! But it’s safe, I promise. Part of the registration process involves putting your fleet ID number in to be verified. _Fleet_. Get it?”

Lea’s eyes roll back until the point of pain. “And people actually gave you theirs?”

Jamie shrugs. “Everyone wants to get laid. Or meet the love of their lives. That’s selectable too.”

“Okay, so a bunch of horny cadets keyed in their easily-traceable-by-Jamie-Kirk identification information, which I’m so very sure you’re not hoarding. What part of this is supposed to appeal to me again?”

“The part that has a Filter By Non-Students option!”

Lea shakes her head, downing the rest of her beer. “So, let me guess: you want me to be your test dummy for that category, huh? Because I can tell you that nobody with half a brain over the age of 25 would sign up for a dating app that makes you give out your fleet ID.”

“Well, one already has. She’s a Vulcan. And,” Jamie drags out the word until Lea grabs the pillow again, “she’s looking for a woman!”

Lea lowers the pillow, but her eyebrow remains raised. “You’re too excited to be lying. Show me.”

“Holy shit,” Bones whistles, loud enough to cause Jamie to scream from beside her. And even if Roma next door whacks the wall in protest, she’d argue to the housing commission that the exclamation was deserved. The woman was gorgeous, the sharp lines of her dark eyebrows and bob emphasizing a pouty Cupid’s bow that was just begging to be smeared with Lea’s lipstick.

“I knew it!”

Dealing with a smug Jamie Kirk is worth the chance she’ll get to have her face between this woman’s tits. Well, mostly.

“A _‘strongly moral woman who seeks stimulating conversation and career excellence combined with honesty and tact’?_ Jamie, when have you ever known me to be tactful?”

“Don’t think too much about it! I’ve seen your ass in a thong—you’ve got the _stimulating_ part down pat!”

Lea shakes her head as Jamie reads the rest of the bio out loud, grabbing another slice of pizza.

“—and she’s tagged as ‘looking for bonding/marriage’,” Jamie chatters on, scrolling through a multi-paragraph Preferences section that reads like a technical paper. “Doesn’t that just get your ole debutante heart a-swoonin’?”

Lea takes a long drink of whiskey but doesn’t deny it. “‘Spock’, huh?” 

“Yeah! Grab your PADD and I’ll write a profile for you!”

“Absolutely not. Didn’t you get the memo that I suck at being married?”

_“Bones!”_

Lea shoves the PADD back into Jamie’s hands, finishing off her glass and pouring another without a second thought as her roommate fiddles with her own. She won’t be lucky enough for Jamie to let the topic drop, but at least she’ll be drunker when she brings it up again.

Ten or so minutes pass in blessed silence, broken by the sound of a familiar voice cooing at the door. Lea would find it pleasant if she hadn’t spent the last few weeks listening to it scream her roommate’s name at 2 AM.

“Jamie-love! Are you there?”

Jamie looks over to Lea, as though asking for permission. Lea nods, staring into her drink, already anticipating the quiet that’ll become stifling after an hour—her punishment for pushing Jamie away. _Exhibit A of why I’m divorced, kid._

A pretty mop of red curls peeks through the door. “Do you mind if I steal her tonight, Doctor?”

“You’d be doing me a favor,” Lea snaps, grinning when Jamie flips her off. She closes her eyes and groans once she’s out of sight, trying to figure out if she should talk herself into or out of what she’s about to do.

+

Four hours, a hot shower, and a long session with her vibrator later, and Lea’s made her choice.

The profile itself isn’t hard to write, especially with a good dose of lying by omission. Things like a bastard ex-husband and a kid you miss so much it’s physically painful really aren’t topics she wants the flurry of people behind the “BarelyLegalCadet likes you!” notifications to be privy to. 

Despite her sanitized bio and her ID headshot that was a testament to the power of concealer and dry shampoo, Lea’s still surprised when a chat box opens practically the second she’s found Spock’s profile. 

_MsSpock: I wish to engage in conversation when you are available to do so._

Lea smiles, slow and wicked. “So you’re either a hellcat of a top or one bratty bottom. I can work with that.”

_DrBones: A gorgeous, accomplished woman like you shouldn’t need to trawl these kinds of apps._

Okay, so she was laying it on thicker than Jamie had on that poor Andorian a few weeks ago. But it wasn’t like this was going anywhere, right? Right. Might as well have a little fun.

_MsSpock: I did not register here with the intent to seek a romantic partner._

_DrBones: Sure. Which is why you immediately messaged the only other non-student user on the app. And let’s not forget the thesis about the perfect Vulcan housewife you wrote on your profile._

_MsSpock: One of the cadets I hold in regard informed me of this medium for interacting with potential romantic and sexual partners. My aim was to ascertain its safety._

“Dammit, Jamie,” Lea groans, pouring herself a fresh glass of whiskey.

_DrBones: Well, I can’t speak to that. Maybe ask 420FunCouple. They’ve sent me 5 messages since your chat box opened so I have a feeling they’d be real responsive._

_MsSpock: I will consider doing so._

Lea shotguns the rest of her drink. “Well, that’s that,” she says to the darkened street from over the back of the couch, avoiding the reflection of the pizza boxes, empty whiskey bottle, muddy floor, and everything else that immediately disqualifies her from the (admittedly stick-up-assed) arm candy Spock’s looking for. 

_MsSpock: While I had not planned to meet a potential romantic partner through this venue, I would be foolish to not pursue the interest I have developed in you._

_DrBones: I’m not exactly up to your standards, Ms Tall Dark and Logical._

_MsSpock: I disagree. I find your innovative use of language indicative of a well-developed and receptive mind. As well, your position as a doctor correlates with empathy in humans. These are admirable traits._

Lea blinks several times, reminding herself to swallow before she answers.

_DrBones: I thought Vulcans didn’t give compliments?_

_MsSpock: You value direct speech. I appreciate this._

_DrBones: You didn’t answer my question._

One minute passes, then three more. Upon closer inspection, Spock’s left ear is more sharply pointed than her right. Lea wants to feel them both between her thighs.

_DrBones: So, the rain keeping you in tonight?_

_MsSpock: I apologize for my delayed response. I was considering how best to reply to your erroneous assumption regarding Vulcans, who I understand have been misconstrued by many Terrans. I, however, do not understand how today’s precipitation is related to our potential as romantic partners._

Lea bites back a comment about wetness, shifting under her blanket and feeling like she’s sixteen and getting told off by an uncomfortably hot teacher. Which, oh right, _she is_. It shouldn’t make Bones squirm as much as it does, especially after having three orgasms in the past hour.

_DrBones: I’m making conversation, Spock. It’s a way to ask if you usually spend Friday nights flirting with strangers on dating apps._

_MsSpock: I do not “go out” in the manner my students do, no matter the weather conditions. However, I do curtail unnecessary outdoor activities when it is raining._

_DrBones: At least you’ve got some sense! We would’ve shut down everything today back in Georgia if it got this cold!_

_MsSpock: I assume you are referring to the American state and not the country. In either case, I doubt that this weather would be considered inclement._

_DrBones: Correct. I’m a real Georgia peach. Well, one with a couple of bites taken out of me._

_MsSpock: Metaphorically, I presume?_

_DrBones: What it means is that I’ve got an ex-husband and a son._

_MsSpock: That is acceptable to me._

After closing her eyes until she’s sure the stinging behind her eyes won’t develop into tears, Lea types her response, swearing when she sees that it’s much too late to ask Spock out for a drink.

_DrBones: So, what are you doing tonight? Or were, before I started talking your ear off._

_MsSpock: Again, I presume that you are being metaphorical. In either case, I was reading a recent publication from the VSA detailing the efficacy of modified craniosacral therapy on those diagnosed with Bendii Syndrome._

_DrBones: That sounds like pseudoscientific horseshit_

  
_DrBones: Send it to me_

And that’s how Jamie finds her roommate when she stumbles back in at 1:30 AM—cursing, sprawled out on the couch with three blankets and a heated neck pillow, scribbling on one PADD and typing frantically on another.

Lea clicks her stylus into the reading PADD’s side, looking up with a seriousness she usually saves for announcing a patient’s death to their family.

“Jamie, I think I just met the love of my goddamn life.”


End file.
